


Redamancy

by Spoonzi



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Malcolm Bright Gets a Hug, Multi, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Pre-Canon, Sort Of, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:21:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24012001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoonzi/pseuds/Spoonzi
Summary: Redamancy(n.) the act of loving the one who loves you; a love returned in full[]•[]•[]A story about Malcolm, his husband, and how they got where there are today.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/OMC/Eve Blanchard (minor), Malcolm Bright/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	Redamancy

**Author's Note:**

> [Visual aid](https://pin.it/ubmokro) for my OC, Keller Grier, who will be portrayed in full by Timothée Chalamet.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to [May](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyMayBee) and [King](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akingnotaprincess) who really liked my idea and character.
> 
> Here is the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6ud4Nx7FdILhFfK53o70N3?si=72TOXG6KQDuYu5C28cAl3A) so far including May’s contributions for this chapter “Die Young by Ke$ha” and “La Da Der by Cody Simpson”.
> 
> Warning: Chapter is barely considered betad.

**Part One - 2007**

_ AUGUST 2007 _

When he’s nearing 18 he meets a man who has the last name of a serial killer. Maybe meet isn’t the word though. Two months before his 18th birthday, Keller Grier is almost sprawled across the floor of the Behavioral Science lecture hall by Malcolm Whitly. 

Kel nearly pitches down the stairs, but he’s able to catch himself and wrap an arm tight around the slightly shorter figure. Grunting when his bag falls to the crook of his arm almost violently, he takes a step up and sets them back to rights. He looks down at wide, blue eyes and shrugs his bag back up his shoulder from where it had caught. “You alright, mate?”

“Sorry,” the blue eyed man whispers shuffling as far away from Kel as he can on the narrow staircase. 

Keller frowns and looks up the stairs finding two guys blocking the way up. It isn’t hard to figure out why he’d just been fallen into. “You know it’s rude to push people, right?”

“His dad is a serial killer!” One of the guys says pointing an accusatory finger at the man who had fallen into Kel. He blinks, tilts his head, and looks at the blue eyed man vaguely recalling the Surgeon’s son, Malcolm Whitly, was in the class roster. 

Looking back up at the two men blocking their way, he shrugs. “My dad was a corporate lawyer. In the scheme of things, I think he’s gonna have a worse time in hell.”

The other guy jumps in on the conversation like he wants to help his friend lose the verbal sparring match that he entered into when he brought Kel into this whole idiotic situation. “His dad is a killer! What says this guy isn’t? They say kids take after their parents.”

From the corner of his eye he can see the blue eyed man, Malcolm if he’s not mistaken, sink in on himself. Sighing, Kel scratches a hand through his curls. He’d thought he’d leave behind petty bullying in highschool but apparently assholes want degrees too. “That mean you like sucking dick then?” He questions haughtily knowing it’s a bit juvenile even as he says it, but hey technically he still is juvenile. “Because I think I saw your mum slobbing on someone’s knob at the boys club last night.”

The guy lunges for him and Kel narrowly side steps, grabbing Malcolm’s arm as he goes. He pushes past the second guy and dances around two chatty girls to yank the other man down a row directly in the Professor’s line of sight as she steps into the room. Smiling innocently at the old woman, he snatches his tabbed notebook out of his bag and slaps it down on the shared desk before cramming his bag down between his boots. 

“Those two are going to beat the crap out of you later,” Malcolm hisses carefully depositing a text book, a folder, and a leather journal onto the shared space.

Keller shrugs and settles more comfortably on the bench, flicking through his tabs until he gets to the green one labeled  **B.Sci.** in the neatest handwriting he’d been able to manage. “Is this where I’m supposed to care, bright eyes?”

“It’s Malcolm. Malcolm Whitly.”

“I know.” He digs in his pocket and pulls out a pack of menthol gum pushing one of the white pellets through the foil. He tosses it into his mouth and introduces himself. “Keller Grier. You can call me Kel though,  _ bright eyes _ .”

“Why’d you do it?” Malcolm asks after a moment of turning to the page he wants in his textbook and selecting a pencil from an overly pretentious looking case within his folder. 

Kel just yawns and retrieves a mechanical pencil from where it is shelved over his ear, setting free a swath of dark brown curls. “I don’t like bullies,” he explains vaguely, clicking his pencil a few times to make a thin piece of lead appear. 

“Do you boys have something to share with the rest of us!” The professor calls, looking both upset and disappointed as she crosses her arms over her chest. 

He smiles again as Malcolm sinks down in the bench, and leans forward to hold eye contact with the old woman. “I was just wondering aloud to Malcolm here where you got that stunning crochet shawl, Missus Clauson. Is it new by chance?”

Red seeps into the tops of her cheeks and she huffs trying to push away the flattered look she is clearly sporting. “Try to stay on topic, Mister Grier. This is Behavioral Science  _ not  _ fashion week.”

**[]•[M]•[]**

Malcolm starts seeing his curly haired savior a lot more after his unfortunate almost-fall. It takes him a while but finally he approaches Keller on the quad one day. The approaching part is about as far as he gets because when he stops in front of the younger man he doesn’t really know what to say so he just stares. 

Keller is wearing a very tight pair of green and blue plaid trousers that are rolled up above his ankles and a loose almost see-through white T-shirt with cuffed sleeves. He is leant back against a tree with a cigarette balanced between his lips and his arms folded behind his head looking like the embodiment of relaxation. Malcolm notices the little things too, like how the boy crosses his ankles and how one curl delicately rests against his forehead instead of staying in the rubberband that holds nearly all of his hair. 

Malcolm is saved from having to speak because when he stops in front of the other boy his shadow falls across Keller’s face taking away the warm golden glow of the sun. His nose wrinkles up at the loss of light and one of his eyes opens revealing hazel coloring and an annoyed flair that seems to fade almost immediately. That one eye flicks up and down over Malcolm’s form and he suddenly feels a bit insecure about his clothes—his favorite Harvard sweatshirt and a comfortable pair of grey slacks. 

“If you’re looking for a place to study bright eyes, you can sit with me but quit blocking the sun,” Keller says expertly around the cigarette between his lips. Malcolm just nods and edges around him carefully folding himself down into the ground wondering when exactly he forgot that the other man had the kind of accent you get from being around people with accents for a long time. 

He settles criss-cross on the ground near his savior’s legs and flips open his book to the section he’s supposed to have read by tomorrow. Every now and again he gets distracted by the way Keller moves, and he watches the man shift which ankle is crossed over or finger at his cigarette butt even after it's long been finished. Malcolm doesn’t notice how long they’ve sat there until he sees the other boy move down to lay flat on his back after lighting a new cigarette. 

“Those things will kill you, you know,” Malcolm comments without really meaning to let it slip out. 

Keller huffs a laugh, grey smoke pouring out from between his lips to curl into the warm August air. He opens both eyes this time and they have golden flecks near the pupils at this angle. “Nearly everything will these days. I’ll quit at some point.” 

Malcolm doesn’t think he will, but he supposes that he doesn’t know enough about Keller Grier to make that assumption. 

**[]•[K]•[]**

_ SEPTEMBER 2007 _

On the odd Saturday out of the month that Keller doesn’t just sleep most of his day away, stretched out in the sunlight, he finds himself perusing around campus looking for something to munch on that he doesn’t have to cook. It’s not that he doesn’t know how or anything, he actually enjoys cooking, it’s just that he’s had an odd craving for cherries all week and he’s forgotten to get them at the grocery store. His flat is both close enough to the school and the shops that he’s got a whole league of options to choose from, but he knows there is a small café nearly right on top of the welcome center that makes killer cherry danishes. 

The girl behind the cash register flirts with him while he orders his danishes and his chai tea latte, and he just smiles and bears it because she doesn’t exactly know he isn’t legal yet. When he has paid—and expertly disposed of the receipt with her phone number in a way where she won’t see and be offended—he glances around the small sitting area. All of the cushy chairs and sofas are taken as per usual and there are a few of those cute metal table and chair sets opened but his eyes catch on a familiar head of straight brown hair and an ever present maroon Harvard sweatshirt. 

From the counter, he can see the older male’s profile. Malcolm looks frustrated if the furrow of his brow and the downturn of his mouth can be trusted. He’s got a white knuckle grip on his pencil and he isn’t even bobbing his head to whatever he’s listening to. Really, Kel thinks he looks stuck as if he can’t work out a problem in his head and he’s trying to do it anyway. 

Knocking on the counter he orders Malcolm another of whatever drink he got, before he strides over to the two-seater bar in front of the big front window and hoists himself up on the chair next to the other man. Malcolm looks up at him so fast his headphones slide off of his head and catch around his neck and startled blue eyes pin Keller to his chair. Smiling, he reaches forward to tap the empty, plastic cup beside the abundance of study materials. “I ordered you another caramel cold-brew. Extra shot of espresso, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks I guess.” The blue eyed man looks from him around the café and back. “Is this you bribing me to leave?”

The question shocks a laugh out of him and he has to shove his curls out of his face due to the movement jarring them. Wetting his lips with his tongue, he points out, “You’re funny. No I came for cherry danishes and I could hear the gears turning in your head from the counter.”

Sighing, Malcolm turns his pretty blue eyes on the paper in front of him. “I’ve just got a psych essay giving me trouble, I’ll figure it out. I’m trying not to ask Professor Simmons or my father for help on this but I might just have to give.”

Keller gratefully accepts their drinks and his danishes from the server when he holds out the tray and he passes the man a five before setting the cold-brew down in front of his acquaintance. “The comparative essay on a person in history who has a good psyche vs a person who has psychotic or sociopathic tendencies, right?” He asks, pitching his voice to innocent curiosity, rather than one resembling interrogation, as he gathers the foamy cinnamon and sugar mixture from the top of his latte on his middle finger and sucks it off. 

Malcolm stops chewing nervously on his new straw to blink up at him. “Have you started on it? I’m stuck on trying to figure out who my good psyche person should be? I’ve decided on [Jack Kevorkian](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_Kevorkian) for my comparison.”

He can’t help making a face which he hides by taking a large bite of his danish. Once he’s finished chewing, Keller makes a hand gesture that he himself can’t even make wits of and asks, “You know you can choose anyone right? Mother Teresa, Frida Kahlo, Malcolm X, hell even  _ Jesus _ since Professor Simmons is so obviously Christian.”

The older man pauses like he couldn’t have thought of any of those people or others and moves to jot down Mother Teresa on his paper. Boy wouldn’t that be a comparison. He looks back to Keller and tilts his head. “You didn’t answer. Have you started yet? Who did you choose? It’s due Monday, you know.”

“I finished it Wednesday night after we got it.” Keller shrugs, smiling slightly as he picks up his latte and takes a sip letting the spices and caffeine roll over his tongue. This is the most he’s had Malcolm say to him since they met and frankly he finds it nice. “I chose Ted Bundy and Harriet Tubman.”

Malcolm gives him a blank disbelieving look that slowly shifts to horrified after he realizes Keller isn’t having him on. “You  _ finished _ a ten page essay the day you got it? How?  _ Why? _ ”

He just shrugs, picking up his second danish to bite into it. After a moment, he glances at the other boy. “I’ll be completely honest with you, bright eyes. I do all of my assignments as soon as I get them so I don’t have to worry and I can take all the extra time to be lazy.”

“Unbelievable.” The older man whispers around the crudely bent end of his straw before looking back down at his study materials and sighing. “I have to go back to the library now.”

Keller hums and pushes the square plate across the bar to him pointing to the last cherry danish. “Eat this first.”

**[]•[M]•[]**

So Malcolm looks Keller up in the school database while the archivist is passed out in her chair, he’s always had some pretty bad trust issues and the guy seems pretty interesting. He figures maybe if he knows more about him he can actually be friends with the other boy. He doesn’t expect that Keller is 17 and nearly halfway through two doctorates because who would be expecting that. He sits in a dumbfounded haze idly reading the other man’s records until the archivist stirring behind him has him jumping to close the files and book it out of the records room. 

He sees the man in question not an hour later as he walks through the quad looking for a place to study until his next class. Keller is draped across the wide concrete rise of a planter, head pillowed in his bag with one checker clad leg dangling over the side and the other bent up. His red T-shirt rests just above his navel where it’s been rucked up, showing off a thick and flashy studded belt. One arm is thrown up almost dramatically to rest against his forehead, his usual silver [locket bracelet](https://m.aliexpress.com/item/32272625864.html?trace=wwwdetail2mobilesitedetail) glinting in the light while the other rests easily over his torso. 

Malcolm notices that he’s once again basking in a golden patch of sunlight almost like a cat as he makes his way over. He sits next to Keller’s head, eyes tracing loose curls where they spill over the black fabric of the satchel. “I looked you up in the records room,” he admits when he realizes that the younger male has already figured out he’s there.

“I guessed you would.” Keller says not opening his eyes or sounding offended in the slightest. “Find anything interesting?”

“Well apparently you’re a genius.” He finds himself commenting and he observes a nose wrinkle reaction. 

“That word is the worst. Genius is just a construct built by society trying to make it out like smarter people are better than the rest.” The curly haired boy sighs and squirms around until he’s on his stomach with his chin resting in his palms and his soft hazel eyes trained on Malcolm’s face. “Is that all?”

“You’re getting a doctorate in Psychology and one in English. What are you going to do with them?” He asks because he’s honestly curious on what the younger man is going to do when he graduates from Harvard. 

“Career wise? Nothing.” Keller shrugs though the movement looks a little crazy due to the way he’s sitting—like a teenage girl talking on the phone in a horror movie—with his crossed ankles shifting back and forth through the air behind him. 

The answer knocks him off kilter for a moment and he flounders for what to say before his mouth decides for him. “Nothing? You’re going to get two PhDs and do  _ nothing _ with them. Why even get them?”

“Spite mostly.” The hazel eyed boy answers reaching out and grasping Malcolm’s arm. He pushes up the sleeve of Malcolm’s shirt and tilts his head staring at the watch face on his inner wrist. “You’re going to be late.”

**[]•[K]•[]**

_ OCTOBER 2007 _

Keller doesn’t even open his eyes when someone, Malcolm, plops down at the end of the sofa he’s laid out on in the library’s rec room. Instead, he shifts and hooks his legs over the older man’s lap. A warm hand settles on his ankle and Malcolm speaks. “Happy Birthday.”

“Is it?” He can’t help but respond as he opens his eyes only to be struck dumb by the sight before him. Malcolm—for once with a blue cardigan replacing his favorite Harvard sweater—sits with his hand outstretched. An innocent looking cupcake rests on his palm with white icing and a shiny red cherry balanced on top. “What’s this?” He sits up to look at the sweet and then to Malcolm who he has also scooted closer to. 

“A red velvet cupcake.” Malcolm sounds a bit cheeky and he’s grinning like a loon 

“I can see that,” Kel huffs going cross eyed as the cake is held up not a centimeter from his nose. “Why though?”

The older man’s brows furrow his face falling. “Keller, have you never had a cake on your birthday?”

“No, I can’t say I have. What’s the point exactly?” He questions taking the hand sized cake with unsure fingers as it is thrust into his grip. 

“It’s for celebration. Usually you have a big cake and a lot of candles to blow out and make a wish. You get gifts and you invite people over if you have a party. Is any of this ringing any bells?” Malcolm asks, looking concerned with sad blue eyes. 

“Not really? People do this every year when they get older?” Kel questions peeling the cherry off of the top of the cupcake so that he can pop it in his mouth. 

“Yeah it’s kind of a whole thing. Especially for the milestones like 16, 18, and 21,” the shorter man explains. “You didn’t do anything special for your birthday?”

“Well,” he tilts his head peeling the paper away from the red cake, “when I was younger Hilda, my nanny, would let me stay up a bit later. If my mum was home she would make Peppermint Macarons since they’re my favorite.” He takes a bite out of the cake finding that it isn't bad for being probably store bought. It isn’t necessarily up to his standards but he hums in contentment anyway and holds it out to the other man’s face . “This is good, thank you. Have some. ”

“I’m, uh, I’m glad you like it.” Malcolm murmurs with a weird look on his face and a flushed neck as he leans forward and takes a small bite from the cupcake. He chews slowly as if he’s thinking and then asks, “So what are you going to do now that you’re 18?”

“Probably something crazy.” Kel decides as he laps cream cheese icing off his lips. “Like get a tattoo or buy a hooker.” Malcolm looks positively horrified at the notion sending him into a fit of laughter. When he can breathe again he drags his palm under his eyes hoping his mirthful tears haven’t messed up his eyeliner. “No I don’t have to pay for sex, but I was serious about the tattoo.”

**[]•[M]•[]**

When Malcolm’s eyes land on Keller in his usual bar seat at the café he is a bit taken aback. The unusual thing isn’t that he already has snacks and drinks or he’s got the front of his hair pinned to the top of his head with a glittery barrette. It’s that he seems to be hand sewing a large piece of blue fabric. 

Taking his seat next to the younger man, he sets down his study materials and swipes his cold-brew from the table so that he can sip it before he brings up this whole ordeal. “So you can sew?”

“I can also do needle point, knit, and crochet.” Keller says absently before looking up with a smile that makes Malcolm more than a little breathless. 

“So what are you doing exactly.” Malcolm asks looking at the usual square plate sitting on the table between them. Pumpkin spice cookies if he isn’t mistaken, he takes one simply because he knows it will be forced on him later and this way he can claim the smallest one. 

“Halloween is Friday.” The other man says, his eyes excited and his face bright. “It’s my favorite holiday. Every year Hilda and I would hand make my costume and we would trick or treat until our feet felt like they were falling off.”

The excitement in his voice has Malcolm smiling as he bites into the cookie. After he finishes the cookie he points to the blue fabric. “So what’s this?” 

“It’s the final piece to my Jack Sparrow costume. I’m helping out at the community and youth center nearby for their fall festival.” Keller shoots him a hard look. “And you will be telling absolutely no one, it would ruin my asshole reputation.”

“We can’t have anyone knowing that big bad Keller Grier dresses up on Halloween and plays games and gives candy to kids.” He finds himself joking and he’s lucky that the younger man’s hard look softens at the edges. “I won’t tell anyone, my lips are sealed.”

“Good!” Keller perks up carefully setting aside the project so that he can pull his latte closer. He picks up two cookies and gives them a critical look before passing one to Malcolm. “So where’s your sweater?” He asks dunking his cookie into his latte. 

Malcolm can feel himself making a face at the cookie-latte dunk. “The sleeve started coming off and our tailor lives all the way back in New York.” He says chewing on the end of his straw idly between sips of mocha flavored goodness. 

“I can come fix it, since I’ve got my kit with me and all. Do you live close?” Keller asks before finishing off his damp cookie and picking up the last one. 

“Yeah, but you don’t have to. I’ll just take it home for Christmas and get it fixed then.” He finds himself saying. 

The curly haired boy doesn’t seem to be taking no for an answer though because he slips the cookie between his lips and begins to pack his blue cloth into his usual messenger bag carefully. He finishes off the cookie quickly, chugs down his latte, and looks over to Malcolm with a strange sort of smile. “Nonsense, why pay someone to do what I can do for free? Besides I might just show you my tattoo.”

He gives a cheeky wink and it’s like a triple assault that has Malcolm breathless all over again. He stumbles out of his chair behind Keller and follows the younger man out wide eyed and holding his books and his cold-brew to his chest like a lifeline. “You actually got a tattoo?” He asks in a hushed, squeaky sort of awe. 

“Well you’ll know soon, won’t you?” The curly haired boy’s grin is a little too sharp and feral in Malcolm’s opinion but he begins to lead him back towards his apartment anyway. 

“Make yourself at home.” He finds himself saying habitually as they step through the door of his apartment and he hangs his keys on the hook. He watches Keller do a loop around the open living and kitchen area as he puts his stuff down and throws away his empty cup. Keller pauses giving an interested look at the glass case full of weapons and an almost starry eyed one at the full kitchen Malcolm thinks he has used all of one (1) time to boil some eggs. 

Keller carefully shrugs off his bag and puts it on the counter before digging around in it and pulling out a smaller bag. He pushes off the sleeves of his oversized red sweater and kicks off his black slip-ons before padding over to Malcolm. “Take me to your sweater, bright eyes.”

Malcolm just rolls his eyes because he can already tell that the nickname is never going to go away and he finds that he doesn’t care as much as he did in the first place. Leading the younger boy down the short hallway, he grabs the handle of the door on his left and pushes it open trying not to look at his bed where he knows his mouth-guard and restraints are sitting innocently on the bedside tables. Instead he heads right to his closet to pull out the Harvard sweater, flinching when he hears the mattress shift as Keller flops down on top of it. “I didn’t know you were into stuff like this. Kinky.”

He sighs and turns walking over to the bed as Keller looks up from the wrist cuff with an amused glint in his hazel eyes. He holds out the sweater and refuses to make eye contact as he explains. “They’re for night terrors. I get  _ disruptive _ .”

“So, not kinky then. Noted.” Keller says with a simple shrug of his shoulders as he raises the sweater up to look at the sleeve that’s coming off. 

Malcolm feels the confusion before he registers he is looking at the other man and speaking. “You don’t care? It’s kind of weird isn’t it?”

The curly haired boy shrugs, unzipping the small bag to retrieve a tiny spool of red thread nearly the same color as the sweater and a case of needles. “I still sleep with a stuffed llama named Phyllis, who am I to judge.” He goes through the motions of threading the needle and tying it off before he works a hand into the sleeve to hold the torn part to where he can see it. 

Carefully as not to mess up the stitching, Malcolm sits down and watches Keller work on the torn clothing. After only a moment the sleeve is fixed like it had never been torn in the first place and Keller is snapping the thread with his teeth and replacing his items in the mini-bag. He passes the sweater back over to Malcolm and all he can do is look at the fixed fabric for a moment. “You’re something else, Keller Grier.”

“I know!” The curly haired boy responds perkily hopping up onto his feet. “Come on, I’ll show you my tattoo and then you can work on your reading while I take a nap on your expensive looking sofa.”

He leaves the sweater on the bed in favor of following Keller back to his kitchen/living room. He gathers his books from the counter as the other boy puts his mini-bag back and retrieves what looks like a small lotion bottle labeled  _ Vitamin E _ . He takes a seat on the far right side of the couch and watches Keller pad over until he’s standing near him. 

Keller lifts his sweater and undershirt and shuffles down his tight athletic pants on one side baring his left hip to the world. Malcolm can feel the flush spreading from his face down to his chest and all the way up until it burns the tips of his ears. The tattoo is still new so it is raised and a bit red around the edges. It is simple black ink forming the word  _ Always _ stretched over Keller’s sharp hipbone in typewriter-esk font and the ‘A’ has been replaced with a triangle with a circle and a line within it. 

“Does it mean something?” He finds himself asking as he watches the clear oil from the bottle get applied to the inked skin. 

“It’s from Harry Potter.” Keller informs him as he fixes his clothes and sets the bottle and his hair barrette on the coffee table. A moment later he is sprawled across the couch with his head in Malcolm’s lap and a content look on his face. Settling back to get comfortable, Malcolm opens his book to the desired page and mentally notes that he needs to look into this Harry Potter thing later along with whoever Jack Sparrow is. 

**[]•[K]•[]**

_ NOVEMBER 2007 _

It’s shockingly hard to find Malcolm the week before the thanksgiving holidays but not impossible. As smart as the older man is, he tends to put off his work until he only has a few days left to do it. So, Keller figures there are only about five places he could be: the campus library, the public library, the café, the quad, and of course his flat. 

For obvious reasons, he checks the café and the quad first and hopes that he won’t have to go to the public library as he glides through the doors of the one on campus. The warmth of the building envelopes him and he pushes the sleeves of his leather jacket up as he wanders each of the sitting areas until he comes across Malcolm. Like predicted he’s got a laptop, several stacks of books, and about a million papers surrounding him in an orderly mess. 

Keller sighs dramatically and sinks to the floor beside him throwing one arm over his shoulder and hooking his chin over Malcolm’s writing arm. It coaxes a smile out of the blue eyed boy who stops writing to look at him in amusement. “What’s up?”

“I’ve been cancelled on. My aunt,” he pauses to make a barf face and roll his eyes, “was supposed to come and visit for the holiday and I bought all kinds of food and some board games to goad her into playing with me. She called me this morning and told me she has to go to London for business.” He peers at the clutter on the library desk trying to gage what it is and he’s 90% sure it’s an English assignment—Malcolm  _ hates  _ professor Briggs’ assignments. “What are your holiday plans?”

“Well I was going to go home for the holidays  _ but  _ Mother and Ainsley want to go to the Hamptons so I’m avoiding New York like the plague so I’m not dragged along,” Malcolm answers with a shiver for show. “Why?”

“Come stay with me for the week? Pleeeeeeaaaassseee?” He drags the word out dramatically long and gives an over exaggerated puppy dog look. 

“You know if someone sees you like this you are going to lose your whole uncaring bad-boy rep thing.” The blue eyed man tries to change the subject and sighs when the puppy eyes only continue with an added pout. He sighs and lowers his voice, “Look, I would, but the night terrors.”

Keller raises his brows. “Mate, you’re telling me you don’t have cuffs you can travel with?” He asks. Malcolm sighs but he’s smiling at him all the same.

That’s how Keller finds himself sitting on the floor in front of his coffee table throwing a monopoly top hat at his friend. “You cheated,” he claims as Malcolm laughs and ducks out of the way of the flying metal, playing piece. 

“How do you cheat at monopoly?” Malcolm asks grinning as he flicks the boot piece in Keller’s direction. 

“Well I don’t know but you did it.” He huffs catching the boot and dropping it on the board before falling back against his sofa. “Next time  _ I  _ get to be the banker.”

“Alright sure, next time you get to be the banker.” The other man agrees as he begins to quickly and efficiently pack away the board game and all of its stray pieces. “So what do you want to do now?”

“Well we should eat the green bean casserole I have in the oven first. Then we can do anything. Watch a movie, play battleship, go get you laid.” Keller shrugs, standing up. He just watches and enjoys the way Malcolm begins to turn red, the color disappearing under his shirt collar and reaching up to his ears. 

“I uh. I don’t think— That last option is, um, I don’t really know if I can do that. I don’t really know how.” Malcolm stutters and stumbles out, not looking up from where he’s organizing the brightly colored money. 

To say that he is surprised is a bit of an understatement. Sure Malcolm is a little awkward, but he’s also attractive as hell so Kel had figured that he’d at least lost his virginity by now. “No judgement, mate. Are you telling me that you’re a virgin?”

“Yeah.” The blue eyed boy admits avoiding all eye contact as he slides the lid on the box and stands as well. They both make their way over to the kitchen in silence and he takes a seat at the island as Keller removes the small glass dish from the oven. 

He sets it on a pot holder in front of Malcolm and retrieves two forks before leaning on the counter top across from him. “I could help you with that if you wanted.” Heat fills his core as he offers and Malcolm’s eyes snap up to him wide and blue enough he could drown in them. “Take you out I mean. Find you a girl you like and talk you through it.”

Malcolm swallows audibly and picks up his own fork but he doesn’t eat anything until Keller takes his first bite. “You’d be there? In the room with me?”

“On the bed if you want.” Kel shrugs and takes another quick bite of the warm casserole. “We can do it here too. Up there on my bed.” He points with his fork up to the loft part of the flat. 

“I uh, I don’t know if there are any girls that would be up for that.” Malcolm says taking a tiny bite from his end of the casserole. 

“You’d be surprised.” He chuckles and spears off another, much larger, bite from his end. “We can change and go after we eat. I’ll put Phyllis in the bedside table for the night.”

The hard part is finding something that both fits and doesn’t make Malcolm look crazy out of place—or more out of place—at a club. He goes through Malcolm’s bag and his own closet twice before settling on putting him in his most close fit pair of black slacks and one of Keller’s soft, black button up shirts. It’s a pretty jarring difference from the tight dark wash jeans Kel has slung low on his hips and the black tee that stops just above his naval reading  _ SLUT  _ in large sparkling blue lettering, but in the scheme of things their fashion senses tend to differ greatly anyway. 

The club he chooses is an 18 and up club because he doubts Malcolm even thinks to own a fake ID. The plastic, neon purple under 21 bracelet is itchy and the bouncer put it on too tight but he can’t help but smile as he steps into the club. It isn’t packed but it’s crowded enough that there has to be at least someone Malcolm finds attractive so he leads the shorter male to the bar and waves the bartender down. “I’ll take a virgin pomegranate mojito for me and and for my friend here a mocktail, something sweet.”

He goes ahead and pays while they wait and leans close to Malcolm so that he can speak without having to shout too loud. “Tell me if you see a girl you like!” When their drinks arrive he raises the black straw to his lips and sips the fruity concoction, eyes roving around the large area and taking everyone in. It isn’t too late so people aren’t overly drunk yet and the party til closing people haven’t arrived. 

A little over halfway through his drink, Malcolm leans close to him, voice sounding nervous as he tries to speak over the music, “What about her?” He points to a girl somewhere around their age with long blond hair. 

She is sat at the other end of the bar looking almost bored with a glass of something pink with strawberries in her hand and a black clutch resting against her arm. She definitely looks like what Malcolm’s type could be with her pencil skirt and her bright, royal blue blouse. She’s got light makeup on and she keeps looking around and then staring back at her glass with a sort of upset dancing at the corners of her lips and eyes. 

Keller nods, takes one last sip of his mojito, and passes it to Malcolm. “Stay here and finish this for me.” He weaves through dancers and people making their way around the club and slips up next to the woman smiling charmingly. “Hello, luv. I’m Kel, and you are?” 

He holds out his hand for hers and she smiles accepting it so that he can dust his lips across her knuckles. “Eve. Aren’t you cold?” She gestures to his cropped shirt. 

“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.You don’t wear a jacket to a club usually.” He jokes keeping his voice light even though he has to speak a bit louder than he normally would. “I’m not intruding, am I?” He questions bringing their hands back down to the bar and stroking his thumb over the back of hers. 

“No, I came here alone,” Eve replies, taking a sip of her pink drink. 

“Looking for fun, I hope.” Keller shifts tilting his head so his curls fall just the right way and letting his eyes slip half closed in a way he knows looks vaguely enticing. 

“That depends. What kind of fun are you offering?” She questions pinning him with a coy look. 

“My friend over there,” he tilts his head towards Malcolm. “Has never been with anyone. I promised him I’d talk him through pleasuring a woman. Are you up for that?”

Her chest heaves and her eyes go molten as she turns to the direction of Malcolm. “The one with the gorgeous blue eyes, right?”

“That’s the one, pretty isn’t he?” Kel can’t help but ask as he uses her grip on his hand to help her stand from her stool. 

“Says the pretty boy.” She scoffs, shrugging the chain of her clutch over her shoulder as he crooks his fingers in the other man’s direction. 

The three of them make their way out into the drudged air and Eve shivers as it chills her bare arms and legs. Kel breathes it in enjoying the sharp feeling as he pulls a folded twenty from his wallet and holds it up to flag down a cab. 

**[]•[M]•[]**

Malcolm is nervous. Beyond nervous, really. He’s sweating a little even though they’ve just been outside in the almost-winter air but when he looks to Keller he finds himself almost calm. The other man is windswept—all wild curls, pink cheeks, and pinker lips—looking every bit as attractive as he thinks he does no doubt. And the girl, Eve he had learned, is radiant with long blond hair and glittery eyes that complement her cute smile. 

“This way.” Keller says, his voice calm and cool as he drops his keys in the turquoise bowl by the door and begins a slow jog up the stairs. He kicks his shoes off by his closet door and catches Malcolm by the arm as he and Eve do the same pinning him with those absolutely stunning deep, hazel eyes. “I want you to kiss her now, like you mean it.”

It is spoken soft and steady with his same slightly crooked smirk but it feels like an order. So, Malcolm cradles her jaw in his hand, fingers dipping slightly behind her head and neck, and pulls her in for a searing kiss. Arms wrap around his back and fingers pause at his top button before cool lips are pressed against his ear causing him to shiver between the two. “Match me,  _ Malcolm _ .” Keller murmurs sending vibrations into his skin as dexterous fingers slip a button out of its hole. 

Malcolm follows, a little less smoothly, and pulls the first of the buttons of Eve’s blouse opened. The other man must have counted because when he feels that all of his buttons are undone she is able to slip out of her blouse. The arms pull away from him taking his shirt with them but he continues to kiss Eve exploring her mouth because he hasn’t been told to stop. She unzips the side zipper to her pencil skirt letting it fall to the ground and puddle around her feet. A finger, Malcolm isn’t sure if it is hers or Keller’s, hooks through his belt loop and leads them to the bed until he’s on top of her and the curly haired man is propped up on his side next to them. 

“You can kiss other places now.” Keller commands softly reaching over when Malcolm pulls back to drift his fingers lightly over the column of her throat and her delicate collarbone causing her to shiver. “Like here. No marks unless she asks.” 

He moves immediately to comply, mouthing kisses down the trail that the other boy had traced out. She begins to unbutton and unzip his pants. He only knows it’s her dragging her fingers across his erection because Keller is leading his fingers to the straps of her lacy bra so that he can drag them down and suck a nipple into his mouth when that same hand moves to the back of his head to prompt it. She arches against his tongue. 

“You are doing wonderfully, bright one.” Keller all but purrs and he nearly moans at the praise, trying to distract himself by moving to toy with her other nipple with his tongue. He slips a hand underneath her to unhook the bra since it’s already not being used and pulls away from her to bring it down her arms and drop it over the side of the bed with her other clothes. 

Keller looks up at him with half lidded eyes and a sultry quirk of his lips, and Eve looks up at him with glazed eyes and kiss swollen lips. It’s like art almost. “Panties too, and I’ll teach you to eat her out next,” the other man says and both he and Eve let out pitiful sounding whimpers at the notion. 

Malcolm hooks his fingers in her waistband and drags the dampened lace down her legs letting it flutter down to the floor with the other clothes. He looks to Keller for guidance and gets a soft hand on his shoulder leading him down until he is on his stomach between Eve’s legs with one hooked over his shoulder showing off the wet pinkness of her folds. “Taste her,” Keller commands and his eyes are molten hot in the dimness of the moonlight in the large windows and the fairy lights shining in the loft. 

Malcolm does as he says, flattening his tongue over her hole and dragging it up until he reaches her clit. Eve tastes like salt, musk, and organic soaps. Altogether, it isn’t an unappealing taste so he does it again and when he stops at her clit this time Keller’s fingers weave into his hair trapping him there.

“Suck,” he orders. 

Malcolm groans against her and sucks tonguing at that sensitive nub making her moan in return. Suddenly, there are two different hands in his hair. Eve pushes him against her so he sucks again and drags his tongue over her folds. Keller pets his hair and speaks, “Good boy. I want you to put a finger in her now.” He slides his middle finger between his mouth and her mound to slick it because he can’t fathom hurting her. When he slides his digit into her he sucks and then hums again relishing in the ways she cries out and arches, tightening her grip in his hair. 

“Another finger now,” Keller commands. After a moment of thrusting his fingers in and out of her Keller speaks again only this time to Eve. “Now it is his first time but I have standards, darling. You will be leaving with no less than two orgasms on your plate.” She shivers at the words, her body trembling at the precipice. 

Startlingly dark hazel eyes turn on Malcolm and Keller murmurs a command of, “Curl your fingers up, blue eyes.” When he does Eve cries out and gushes against him filling his mouth with a wash of slick as she shakes apart against his tongue and around his digits. 

Malcolm pulls back and wipes his face, lapping up the cum from his fingers. He looks to the curly haired man for guidance and finds him biting his bottom lip with blown out pupils, leaving only a small ring of green and deep blue behind as the blackness has seemingly completely taken over the rust color in the center of his eyes. He wants to ask if he did well. He wants to hear the praise roll off Keller’s accented tongue. That look he is being given, however, is almost as good. 

Eve pants on the bed beside the man he has been eyeing as she comes down from her climax. She lifts a leg and presses her toes against Malcolm’s hard and aching cock making his hips thrust up in search of more pressure. The response makes her smirk as she speaks, “Pants off, pretty boy.”

Her words spur them both into action. Malcolm almost tumbled off the bed as he moves to get his trousers and underpants off. Keller rolls over to yank open the bedside drawer on the side he is on before speaking up as he glances over his shoulder to eye Malcolm. “Latex allergy, anyone?”

“No.” Malcolm says, swallowing as he looks away trying not to focus too hard on how his first friend—and first crush—since boarding school had just hardcore checked out his penis. 

“Nope, all good,” Eve assures them, reaching up to pull Malcolm into a kiss as he climbs back onto the bed. When she pulls back she smiles stunningly up at him and says, “So, does one of us need to put the condom on you?”

Keller shuts the drawer and rolls back over with a condom held between two of his fingers and an amused look on his face. Malcolm finds himself rolling his eyes at them both and smiling as he takes the condom. “Thanks for the offer, but this I do know,” he murmurs, tearing open the packet so that he can remove the rubber and slide it on. He gives himself a couple of pumps just for the relief of it and drops the foil wrapper in Keller’s outstretched hand so that it can be disposed of in the trash-can under the side table. 

“Careful and slow at first,” the other man directs him as he positions himself at Eve’s entrance. He grasps her hip and slowly slides in looking up to her quickly when she sucks in a breath. “Give her a second to adjust,” Keller says and when Malcolm looks at him he finds the man’s eyes roving over Eve from her face to where he is half inside of her, “now move.”

Malcolm pauses when she’s clenched around his entire length. It’s an entirely new sensation. She’s hot and tight around him, twitching and clenching up before unclenching. When she seems to unclench and relax he pulls back slightly and thrust back in. She hooks her leg over his hip to draw him in deeper and the other man speaks up again, “Rhythm first, find one you are comfortable with, bright eyes.”

He slides one hand up her flank where it is hiked up over his hip and adjusts his grip on her hip before moving again. After a moment he finds a way to thrust without feeling like he’s going to fall over or succumb to the clench of Eve's tightness around him. “Good boy.” Keller purrs and Malcolm can’t help but gasp and cant his hips up at the praise making Eve arch and moan underneath him. A chuckle breaks from the curly haired boy’s lips and his voice seems to drop low and almost sensual. “ _ There it is _ . Aim for that, baby boy.”

A moan escapes Malcolm’s lips at the moniker and he ducks to slide his lips against Eve’s licking into her mouth to distract him from the way he seems to get harder every time Keller speaks. Between his crush’s soft, commanding voice and the way he’s making a beautiful woman writhe underneath him he has to slow his thrusts several times to keep from coming. He  _ had _ been told that Eve deserves at least two orgasms first. 

The bed shifts and Keller leans up closer to them speaking softly and directly into his ear, “Watch.” Malcolm pulls out of the kiss leaving both he and Eve panting into the warm air and his eyes catch on a tan skinned hand as it spreads across her stomach. He watches those long fingers trace down her skin until the middle disappears between the lips of Eve’s mound. His hips jerk out of rhythm when Keller's fingertip brushes over the top of his penis and Eve bucks her hips right back. 

She’s been trembling as if she’s on the edge for a few moments now and her noises sound almost desperate. Keller begins to flick his finger in several quick rotations against her clit dragging a moan out of her that brings his eyes back up to her face. It’s painted in ecstasy and her mouth makes an O as she arches up once again begging with a breathy voice, “ _ Harder _ ! Please, harder!”

Malcolm does as she says even though it doesn’t hold the same commanding feeling, pistoning his hips a bit faster and trying to angle towards that spot that makes her almost shout. He can feel her getting tighter and trembling harder around him and every time he pushes into her heat Keller’s fingers drift wet and hot against his skin where they are working her over. Eve goes completely silent as she arches up shaking through her second orgasm and she tightens down on him dragging him right over the edge with her. 

He falls forward using his arm to make sure he doesn’t crush her with his weight as they ride it out. Keller’s arm is trapped between them slowly stroking over where they are connected like a comfort more than a stimulant. When he catches his breath, Malcolm slips out of her trying not to hurt her with oversensitivity and rolls to her other side almost shocked the bed can fit all of them side-by-side. Carefully, he removes the condom and ties it off before it is taken from his hands by Keller and deposited in the trash. 

“Go shower, both of you,” Keller commands waving them towards the stairs, “it’s the door behind the stairway. I’ll take care of the sheets.”

Malcolm retrieves his pajamas from his bag and Eve collects her things from the floor before they are making their way, happy and satisfied, to the shower. They kiss under the warm spray and he helps her comb the knots out of her hair with pine scented conditioner. All traces of awkwardness are gone by now and they are replaced with comfortable silence as they dress side by side and leave the bathroom. Eve turns immediately to the door and he decides to walk her to it so he follows behind coming up short when she looks back at him pulling a slip of paper from her purse.

“You two call me if you’re ever up for doing this again,” Eve says with a cool smile before setting off towards the elevator leaving Malcolm with a piece of paper and an obnoxious amount of locks to engage. 

When he gets back up the stairs to the loft area he finds Keller in nothing but a pair of low-slung soft, grey pants attaching his travel restraints to the metal headboard. He looks up when Malcolm approaches and smiles lazily around his nearly finished cigarette, holding up the cuffs. “Come on, I’ll strap you in. I hope you don’t mind I threw your clothes in with the sheets, don’t worry I checked the tags first.”

“That’s fine, thanks.” Malcolm murmurs feeling anxious but he is also buzzing with exhaustion and satisfaction so he can’t bring himself to put too much thought in it. Instead, he takes a seat on the new bedclothes—next to Phyllis the llama—and holds up the slip of paper before putting it under the marble paperweight looking elephant in the bedside table. “Eve left her number with the words  _ in case we ever want to do it again _ .”

“I’ll put it in my phone tomorrow,” Keller says but his focus is entirely on where he is adjusting Malcolm’s restraints around his wrists. He hooks a finger under each and rests them with pulls before looking up to meet Malcolm’s eyes as he asks, “Comfortable?” Malcolm can only nod. 

**[]•[K]•[]**

Keller wakes to shuffling next to him and blinks the fog out of his eyes to look over at his bed partner in the low light of the moon and the fairy lights hung around the loft area. He thinks maybe Malcolm has just shifted and closes his eyes to doze back off when the other man lets out a short cry of fear. Sitting up, he moves to look closer wiping away the tear tracks that race down Malcolm’s face as he shushes him soothingly. 

“Hey, bright eyes. It’s safe, you’re with me. It’s safe here.” He soothes ducking out of the way as a cuffed arm swings out at him and Malcolm screams out something that sounds like ‘no, please, no’. He grasps the still flailing arm and lowers it changing tactics a bit. “Malcolm,” he says quiet and stern, “it’s Keller. I am here and you are safe.”

Malcolm jerks again and shudders, tears racing down his cheeks. “Don’t do it. No! No! Don’t!”

“Malcolm, open those pretty eyes of yours for me,” Keller commands, shaking the other boy. Blue eyes open for only a moment and he smiles reaching up to wipe away the tears. “Come on, darling, roll over,” he murmurs and helps the shorter man turn on his side before sliding up behind him and recovering them. 

He loops an arm around Malcolm and lays back down closing his eyes. “You’re safe now.” Keller isn’t sure if he imagines the ‘thank you’ that he gets whispered back. 

**[]•[M]•[]**

Malcolm wakes with the sun for the first time in what seems like forever as it washes the upper part of the loft in golden light. Somehow he’s settled with a hand lazily drifting through his hair and his head resting on Keller’s bare stomach instead of the pillows because the younger man has migrated to the top of the bed. He leans up and takes the other man in, eyeing his sleep relaxed face and the way a dark line of hair disappears under the waistband of very low slung lounge pants. 

“You’re staring,” Keller says without opening his eyes. His voice is sleep-rough and his lips are red and slick like he has been eating cough drops. 

“Am I?” Malcolm finds himself smiling as he reaches up to flick messy curls out of the other man’s face. 

“You  _ are _ .” Hazel eyes open just slightly and level with his as a playful smirk dances over red lips. “See something you like?”

He chews the inside of his cheek for a moment before he breathes out, “I do, I really do.”

Keller tilts his head, a strange look passing over his face before he says, “I care for you. I don’t have sex with just friends if I care for them in the way I do for you.”

Malcolm can feel his eyes go wide and his heart stall behind his ribs before it begins beating just a little too fast. “I’ve wanted to be more than your friend for a while, Kel.”

The younger man reaches up and cups the back of Malcolm’s neck fingers dipping into his hair. “This is a bad idea,” he murmurs giving Malcolm a meaningful look. 

He can’t help but grin at that. “Keller, you  _ love  _ bad ideas.”

“I do, I really do,” Keller reiterates as he pulls Malcolm down into a soft, slow kiss. His lips taste like maraschino cherries and Malcolm can’t help but lap at his own when they pull apart chasing the taste. He watches the other man squirm until he’s back to laying next to him on the bed and leans over to slide their lips together once more flicking his tongue out to gather more of the sweet taste. 

“How long have you been up?” Malcolm asks the next time they pull away, his eyes trained in where thin, dexterous fingers are loosening and removing his cuffs. 

“A while,” the curly haired boy admits leaning over to deposit the cuffs next to the lamp on his bedside table. “I like watching the sunrise, and seeing you peaceful. It was beautiful.”

He hums rolling to where he can hover over Keller and pepper kisses over his lips and jaw. “Me or the sunrise?” He asks, feeling a little cheeky as fingers tangle back in his straight hair. 

Keller makes a thinking face like he is attempting to decide. Malcolm is so focused on the cute crinkle of his nose and around his eyes he doesn’t notice the leg coming up against his side until he’s under the other boy. “Both,” Keller answers before kissing him again. 

Malcolm relishes in the taste of cherries and sugar as Keller licks into his mouth and explores every inch. He sucks trying to pull more of the taste and he shivers when the other man moans. He shifts and presses his hips up finding an answering hardness and drawing another soft noise from his partner as they pull apart. 

The curly haired man nips at his jaw before pressing his lips to the spot. “You want some help with that?”

“I won’t say no,” Malcolm comments smiling into their next kiss before watching as the other man slides down the length of his body. Fingers hook under his waistband and pull until his pants are down around his thighs. He gasps when Keller kisses the head of his prick and he can’t take his eyes away as a hot, red-stained tongue rolls over it dipping under the head to drag over a more sensitive area that makes him buck instinctively. 

Keller takes it beautifully, his lips quirking up even around the girth. He’s able to get a bit more than half of Malcolm into his mouth, wrapping his hand around the base of him and working both in perfect synchronization. He’s a mess before he can even realize it, lost in the way Keller hollows his cheeks and drags his tongue. 

He tries to keep his eyes on the other man but they keep slipping shut as waves of pleasure overtake him forcing him to arch up and buck his hips searching for more. He nearly misses warning Keller as he reaches his peak, webs and needles of pleasure dancing up his spine and down to his fingertips as the feeling tightens in him. He can only whimper and then moan out Keller’s name in broken syllables vaguely resembling it as he spills over the edge into the other man’s mouth. 

Malcolm is barely even coherent as he is wiped clean and his pants are pulled back into place. He comes to with soft kisses to his neck and jaw and a hand stroking through his hair. It’s amazing how safe and satisfied he feels here with this man he’s only known for four months in an apartment he’s only been to twice before. He skates his hand over the other man’s back along his spine and tilts his head to meet him in another soft, slow kiss. 

Keller tastes like him more than the cherries now. Salt and musk with the undercurrent of that still lingering sweetness sticks to his tongue. It isn’t unpleasant, really it only serves to remind Malcolm that he’s the only one who’s gotten off so far. He ends the kiss with several shorter pecks and leans back against the pillows. “You’re turn now,” he says, feeling almost shy as he nudges at the other boy’s shoulder. 

“Maybe just a handjob for your first time,” Keller says lifting himself off of Malcolm. “Sit up, get comfortable, spread your legs,” he commands as he picks at the ties of his pants to pull out the knot. 

Malcolm doesn’t really understand the positioning that he’s being put into but he fixes the pillows against the metal bars of the headboard and moves into position anyway. He looks back up to watch as Keller pulls his own pants down his thighs and turns sliding between Malcolm’s legs, pressing them together back to chest. 

“It’s easier this way,” Keller explains as Malcolm hooks his chin over the other boy's shoulder. “You just do it how you would do it yourself.” Malcolm’s hand is led around so that he can wrap his hand around the length. Keller’s penis isn’t as thick as his judging by the way his fingers touch when they wrap around the girth. It is, however, longer and curved up slightly. Malcolm slides his hand over the length a few times getting a feel for it and finding a rhythm before he twists his grip. 

He learns he likes the quiet sound that Keller lets out when he twists his hand under the head, and that he loves the breathy moans that spill when he squeezes at the base. Keller gasps out a choked off little  _ ‘fuck’  _ when Malcolm drags his finger over the head and presses the tip of his thumb down against the slit. He’d be hard pressed to say it’s his favorite sound but then the curly haired man grapples at his bicep and babbles out Malcolm’s name in breathy little whimpers as he cums. 

Keller seems to recover much faster than he does because his hand is being snatched up and the other man is lapping his cum off of Malcolm’s fingers before he can blink. He says thank you when he’s done and Malcolm isn’t really sure what he’s being thanked for because he’s too focused on pulling Keller into a kiss so that he can taste too. 

**[]•[K]•[]**

_ DECEMBER 2007 _

Keller adjusts the laptop and peers at the Skype dialing screen waiting for it to connect. He’s got his horrible Rudolph Christmas jumper on and he’s been using one hand to sip at his peppermint cocoa as he set up the video chat. It’ll only be Christmas for another hour but he still has a little, square box wrapped in silver paper on the island next to him. 

The screen fills with the image of Malcolm sitting cross legged in a bed wearing an equally terrible Frosty the Snowman jumper. There’s a long box wrapped in brown paper and twine balanced in his lap and he’s got a stupid grin on his face that makes that makes Keller smile. “I’m guessing your visit with your father went well,” he says easily even though he has told Malcolm before that he isn’t sure the visits are healthy. 

“He liked my essays from this semester. Though he was upset none were about him.” Malcolm shrugs rolling his eyes. “That’s not what this call is for though.”

“No it isn’t,” Keller agrees, cupping both of his hands around the large to-go cup of cocoa. “I want to see you open yours first.”

The blue eyed man frowns through the monitor. “Why don’t you open yours first?”

“You want to toss a coin for it?” He questions, reaching for his coat so that he can grab his wallet. 

“Uh, no. You always cheat,” Malcolm sighs. 

“How do you cheat at coin flipping?” Keller asks, hiding his cheeky grin behind his cup. 

Malcolm narrows his eyes on the screen. “You tell me Mr Close-up Magician.”

He can’t hold back his groan. “You promised you wouldn’t bring that up!” He whines leveling a glare—that can hardly be labeled a glare—through the screen at his boyfriend. 

“I  _ lied _ ,” The other man says in an overly dramatic voice that would have Keller at least smacking his shoulder. 

“Just open your present before I hang up,” Kel grumbles, taking a sip from his cocoa and letting the chocolaty peppermint flavor sit on his tongue for a moment. 

Malcolm snorts. “You wouldn’t, you miss me too much,” he comments but he pulls at the twine bow anyway. Keller watches as he pulls the twine off and splits the paper nervously jiggling his leg under the lip of the counter. Malcolm lifts the lid off of the box and stares into it for a moment before breathing out an, “oh my god.”

“A good oh my god, I hope. You told me about your axe throwing stuff from highschool and you have that big cabinet of old weapons,” Keller says and he’s fully aware that he only ever babbles about like this because of Malcolm. “It’s a [Dane Axe.](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dane_axe) It’s somewhere from the eighth to the tenth century, Viking.”

“This is amazing,” the older man breathes, dragging his fingers over the handle before he stiffens, “and expensive. I didn’t get you anything near this expensive,” he murmurs looking apologetic. 

Keller rolls his eyes and takes one last sip of his cocoa before setting it down to grab the little square box and hold it up where the camera can catch it. “This could be a pack of gummies for all I care and if still love it because it came from you. You know that right?”

Malcolm smiles at him and waves his hand in a ‘go ahead’ gesture. “I hope so. Open it!”

He reaches forward and scoots back the laptop so the camera can catch the small bit of the island in front of him before he sets down the box and wiggles off the green ribbon. He’s a little more careful with the wrapping and instead pulls it open on one side and shuffles the box out finding that it’s one of the ones that jewelry comes in. Setting the paper aside, Kel lifts the box and flicks the lid opened. Sitting on top of a pillow of black velvet, is a silver and gold sun and moon [charm](https://www.etsy.com/se-en/listing/681168828/925-sterling-silver-moon-and-sun-charm) with a pretty, blue gem in the center of the sun. 

“What do you think?” Comes Malcolm’s nervous voice from the computer. “I know it isn’t much but you're always wearing that silver bracelet with the locket and I figured you’d like the charm.”

“I love it,” Kel says quietly before he’s rushing to set the box down so he can shove his sleeve up. The heavy, silver chain and heart locket settle at his wrist and he pulls the new charm from the box carefully hooking it through one of the chain links. He twists his wrist to watch the charm glint in the light and then holds it up to the camera's view smiling at the screen. “Now your charm is right next to my mum… thank you, bright eyes.”

**Author's Note:**

> This came about due to the support I got on the [Prodigal Son Trash](https://discord.gg/J3YeZmV) discord server so if you are 18+ and pson trash please join us!


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